At its feet stretch the plains below the Umbrian village of Castelluccio, ironically named Pian Perduto—the Lost Plain. From late June to early July, the landscape turns into a living Monet during the famous ‘Fioritura di Castelluccio’, the ‘flowering of Castellucio’.
During this annual show from nature, fields of lentils bloom alongside wild poppies, cornflowers, and daisies in shifting waves of red, blue, and yellow, drawing crowds of photographers and tourists. The rest of the year, outdoor enthusiasts roam the area on weekends and holidays, on foot, by bike, or by horse.
I’d come here the summer before—same van, same spot, same mountain. No snow, just a riot of different shades of green. In a very different dawn, I set off solo along the steep slopes of Monte Vettore, this time in trail-running shoes. I knew I wouldn’t run much: The camera in my hand kept winning. As I climbed, the plains came into view—a swirl of colored dots below me, like brushstrokes on an impressionist canvas. It was still early in the season, but the vibrant specks of red, yellow, and blue below felt like standing over an unfinished painting, already full of wonder.
And yet, in both seasons, one thing stayed the same. I found myself struck by the contrast: Breathtaking nature all around, but villages still scarred and makeshift. Tourists queuing for lunch in converted containers, using chemical toilets parked along the roadside. Beauty and desolation, side by side.
